


Semiaquatic

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canadian vacation destinations, M/M, Magical Realism, Semiaquatic creatures, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 07:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11755002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: The ocean can hold many wonders. Magic can be as near as the shore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> On vacation in Nova Scotia & PEI & I'm typing this on my phone-such fun! Will add more tags & things later;) forgive me for any issues:P
> 
> Thank you so much to redscudery for the translations! Hopefully the hover text works;)

To a child things can happen which seem magical but probably aren't. Santa arrives on a flying sleigh pulled by reindeer to deliver presents, the Tooth Fairy sneaks into bedrooms to leave money under pillows in exchange for teeth, both of which can be easily explained by parents creating a sense of wonder in their children. Even everyday occurrences can feel enchanted, like snow falling or a wild rabbit sitting motionless in the grass can hold a fairy tale quality in a young child's mind.

To a very few fortunate individuals real magic lives side by side, year after year, and changes them in ways they don't discover until almost too late.

Red Point Provincial Park, Prince Edward Island  
July 11, 1998  
Eric Richard Bittle, age 3

Because he was very young and more than a little bit mischievous, Dicky found himself standing on the beach, throwing stones, shells, pieces of driftwood, pretty much anything he could get his chubby hands on, into the waves, completely unsupervised. His mother, unpacking the camping supplies, had turned her back on him for a moment and Dicky had slipped away, enticed by the gleam of light on the water and the sound of waves.

Every time one of the stones or shells hit the water with a splat or sploosh, he laughed, a bright bubble of sound, so much joy in a simple act.

The waves lapped closer with the incoming tide, almost as if each rock or piece of wood displaced the water to ripple out toward him. The waves increased in size until periodically a larger wave crashed upon the shore, splashing Dicky. His clothes became soaked with spray. The wind picked up and he shivered, but the fascination of throwing objects into the water was stronger than his discomfort.

A wave, much larger than previous ones, came rolling in, close enough to crash over Dicky, pushing him down into the sand. The power of the receding water dragged him out into the ocean. Shock from the fall and cold robbed him of breath and he swallowed some water.

If Dicky had been at any other beach, at any other time, he would have slipped into the water, drowned and his parents may not have ever discovered what had become of him.

Instead, instantly after tumbling into the water, he was hauled out again and placed perhaps none too gently upon the sand, farther up from the water’s edge.

Coughing a bit from swallowing water, the taste of salt heavy in his mouth, Dicky cried.

"Tu ne devrais pas être si proche de l'eau-c'est dangereux. Et t'as failli m'avoir avec les cailloux."

A boy, several years older than Dicky, dark hair plastered to his head, water streaming off of his body, stood in front of him. A complicated look of irritation, disapproval and worry on his face.

Dicky gulped, threw back his head and wailed, “Mama, Mama!”

“Shhh,” said the boy in a kinder tone. “Ça va, t'es correct.”

Lip still trembling, Dicky blinked up at him.

The boy crouched down beside him. "Sais-tu ou sont tes parents?"

Looking puzzled but at least calmer now, Dicky hiccuped, “Mama said not to talk to strangers.”

The boy sighed.

“If you say your name, then we aren't strangers.”

Laughing, he said, “Jack, my name is Jack. What’s yours?”

“Dicky. You talk funny.”

“So do you. All right Dicky, do you know where your parents are?”

Dicky pointed over to the embankment.

“Come on then. Let’s get you home.” Jack stood and held out his hand but voices came from over the cliff.

“Dicky! Dicky, where are you? Answer Mama!”

“I have to go,” said Jack, putting a finger on his mouth. “Stay away from the water, little one.”

Dicky stuck a thumb in his mouth and nodded while he watched Jack run into the water.

His parents came up behind him across the sand. His mother scooped him up, tears on her face.

“Oh my goodness, Dicky! You gave me such a fright! I can't believe you sometimes, what you do to your poor Mama! Richard, he's soaking wet! You could have drowned!”

“Jack saved me. I like Jack. He talks funny.” Then he yawned and put his head down on his mother’s shoulder.

“Who? Sweetie, there's no one here. Oh my gracious. You’ll be the death of me.” She hugged him tighter, the enormity of how close she’d come to losing him overwhelming her.

“There now, Suzanne, he's all right. No harm done.” The sound of a splash came from behind. Richard turned to look.

“What was it?” asked Suzanne.

“Nothing. Looked like a seal, maybe.”

The ocean did not interest her at the moment. “You are going straight to bed, young man. No staying up and looking at the stars for you.”

But Dicky was already fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the blessings upon redscudery for translations. 
> 
> Again I have been writing this on my phone & copy & paste is a pain in the ass. Please forgive any errors.

Caribou and Munroes Island provincial Park, Braeshore, Nova Scotia  
July 13, 2002  
Eric Richard Bittle, age 7

“What's he doing”

Suzanne glanced up from her book. “Spinning,” she said, and went back to reading.

Richard harrumphed. Suzanne ignored him. He tapped his fingers for a bit on the arm of the camping chair.

“Why’s he got to do that?”

Without looking up from her book, she asked, “What's wrong with it?”

“Well...I guess...he could, I don't know, fall or something.”

Putting her book down slightly, she said, “can you please tell me what is really bothering you? He’s outside getting fresh air, playing in the water, not climbing over the displays at the Northumberland Fisheries Museum or getting into any other sort of mischief.”

“Yeah, but…” He rubbed his face. “Look, it's just…”

“Just what?” Her tone dangerous in a way Richard easily recognized.

He threw up his hands. “He's been doing it for months.”

Suzanne picked up her book again. “He’s been doing it since the Olympics, if you’d been paying any attention.”

“The Olympics?”

“Yes. He wants to try figure skating.” She put her finger in her book to mark her place. “I've signed him up to start skating in the fall.” She waited for the explosion.

“What the…? Skating? What about football?”

“We have had this discussion. He is not one of your high school boys. He doesn't like playing football. Last time he tried, he curled up in a ball and I had to run out and carry him off. I understand this is not what you envisioned but it's not about you. Do you want your only child to be happy?”

“Yes, but…”

“Football does not make him happy. Baking and spinning does. We're gonna try skating. It's the first interest he's shown in an active sport besides swimming and the good Lord knows we have to channel his energy somehow. You can still throw the ball with him, but look at him, Richard, really look at him. That boy isn't gonna play football.” She opened her book again with an air of finality. 

Richard grumbled a bit more but sat watching his son. He often wondered if Junior wasn't some sort of changeling child, so different from how he’d been as a boy. If he didn't looked so much like the two of them, he'd have sworn there'd been a mixup at the hospital.

“Fine,” he said and tucking his disappointment down inside, he went back to reading Tom Clancy. He was pretty sure Jack Ryan's kids did what they were supposed to. 

Dicky had his eyes closed. He spun and spun and spun, the light on his eyelids flashing from red to darker red depending on the position of the sun. His arms were either above his head or out to the side.

The crowd roared. They clapped and cheered with every jump or spin. The judges gave him perfect scores.

“Thank you!” he said, tears in his eyes as they put the medal over his head and the anthem played. He waved.

And tripped and fell into the water. A wave splashed into his face. Coughing and spluttering, he tried to wipe the stinging, salt water out of his eyes. 

“Do I always have to find you fighting the ocean?”

Dicky blinked the water out of his eyes. A boy several years older than himself, a little on the heavy side, bobbed in the water a bit further out.

“Were you watching me?”

“Yes.”

“For awhile?”

“Ouais, yes.”

“Um.” He could feel embarrassment flushing his face. “Oh.”

The boy grinned. “You are very enthusiastic. Yes?”

“I guess. I'm Dicky.”

“Ouais, I remember you. You are that kid from Île-du-Prince-Édouard.”

“Huh? You talk funny.”

A vague memory rose in Dicky’s mind of tumbling through the water and a boy putting him on the beach. Overlaying it, his parents’s memories more so than his, discussing the time he’d almost drowned on one of their camping trips.

“Never mind. C'est mieux qu'on n'en parle pas.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. I should go home. My parents are expecting me.” He ducked down under the water.

“Hey wait!”

The boy poked his head up. “What?”

“Can you stay and play? There's no one to play with?” Dicky looked mournful.

“Um…”

“Aw, come on!”

“Okay, but can you come here?”

“Into the water?”

“I don't have a swimsuit.”

“Wow! Your folks let you swim naked? My Mama would tan my hide.”

The boy shrugged.

Looking back at his parents on the beach, Dicky said, “I guess it will be okay. As long as I don't go in too far.” 

He pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it away from the water not really caring where it landed and splashed into the ocean. 

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Jack.”

“Jack. I like it.”

They splashed and swam and dove under the water. They took turns seeing who could hold their breath the longest. Jack won every time. He also found some really neat shells and rocks for Dicky, including a perfect sand dollar.

Mama came down to the water's edge to watch them. 

Dicky asked, “do you want to stay for supper?” Without waiting for an answer, he called up, “Can Jack stay for supper?”

“Of course he can. Jack is it? Hi! I'm Dicky’s Mama, Mrs. Bittle. Would you like to come for supper? Are you staying at the campground? Where are your parents so I can ask them?”

"Vous parlez tellement, vous autres," he muttered. “Uh, thank you, Mrs. Bittle but I need to go home now. Bye Dicky. Stay safe!” Jack ducked under the water.

There seemed to be the beat of a moment where both thought he'd surface again. When he didn't, Suzanne became very agitated. She yelled for Dicky to get out of the water and when he didn't move fast enough, she hauled him out. 

“Richard! Richard that boy! The boy Dicky was playing with, he's gone under and hasn't come up!”

Throwing down his book, Richard sprinted into the water and began searching. “I don't see him, Suze! Are you sure he went under?”

“Yes!” She grabbed Dicky and hugged him to her.

“What's wrong, Mama?”

“I'm worried for your friend. What if he hit his head?”

“Jack can hold his breath for a really long time.”

“Hush now.”

“But Mama, he can!”

Suzanne didn't pay him any attention as she watched Richard wade through the water. The beach didn't have a lifeguard she could call but several families picnicking came and joined in the search. 

Dicky sat on the sand and looked at the shells Jack had given him. If only they'd listen they'd know Jack would be okay.

“What are they doing?”

Glancing up, Jack stood behind him, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts.

“Mama, Jack’s right here.”

“Oh my goodness! Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Jack said, puzzled.

She raced into the water to call off the search and marched back to the two boys.

“You gave me quite a fright, young man.”

Jack shrugged and shuffled his feet. 

“Can you come for supper? Please?” Asked Dicky.

“Maman and Papa said it's okay. That's why I came back.”

“Yay! Is it okay?” he asked Mama. 

Suzanne, still pale from fright, rolled her eyes but smiled at them. “Of course. Now Mr. Bittle is going to cook up some hamburgers and there's salads and pie. Dicky helped make the pie, although the good Lord knows that oven isn't the greatest.” She kept up a running commentary all the way to the camper. “Where are your folks staying? So I can ask them about you coming?”

“They said they're okay with me being here.”

“No sir, no sir, indeed. I will need to speak with them myself.”

Jack looked uncomfortable and opened his mouth a few times before saying, “I'll go get my Papa.” 

He trotted off away from the campground. Meanwhile Richard started up the barbecue while Dicky set the table and Suzanne brought out the salads. 

Jack reappeared shortly with a man with a strong resemblance to him.

“Mrs. Bittle, this is my father.”

Suzanne held out her hand and before the man could grasp it, she made a funny little squeak and pulled her hand back to cover her mouth.

“Hello, I am Jack’s father, Bob…”

“Zimmermann! Oh my gracious! Oh excuse my manners. I had no idea!” She smoothed her top and then her hair.

Dicky asked Jack, “Is your dad famous or something?”

“Yeah,” said Jack, resigned, “he played hockey. For the Habs and the Penguins. He's retired now.”

“Oh. Sorry. I've never watched hockey.”

Looking surprised and kind of pleased, Jack said, “That's okay.” 

While the grown ups chatted, Dicky lugged out a big Thermos jug and poured Jack an overflowing glass of sweet tea. Handing it to him, he poured himself one as well.

“This is, uh, really sweet.”

“Well, duh, it's supposed to be.”

Dicky prattled on about school and his dad and how he wanted to skate and was ice skating and hockey skating the same and did Jack have a dog and was going to tell Jack about his hamster and how it died when they heard Suzanne say, “and Jack disappeared under the water and I was never more frightened except for that time when Dicky almost drowned, but then he showed up a few minutes later as if nothing had happened. It was the strangest thing.”

Bob gave Jack a funny look. "Est-ce que c'est vrai?"

“Ouais Papa.”

"Jack, tu sais..."

"Je sais. Je suis désolé. Ca ne se passera plus.”

“J'espère.”

Speaking to Suzanne and Richard, Bob said, “I'm sorry he gave you such a fright. Jack is an exceptionally good swimmer. I can promise you he will never come to any harm in the ocean.”

Suzanne looked bemused but Richard, since everyone was safe and sound, was far more interested in talking about the differences in coaching football and hockey. Eventually, Bob said he must be going, in spite of the Bittles’s entreaties for him to stay.

“Thank you, but it's sort of a family reunion. We meet every summer when we can and there's a lot of catching up. Jack knows the way back. Jack?”

“Ouais Papa?”

“You come straight home after, okay? The long way.”

“Ouais Papa.”

After supper came a marshmallow roast. 

“These are amazing!”

“Haven't you ever roasted marshmallows camping before?” 

“No. We, uh, we eat a lot of fish.”

Throwing himself backwards onto the ground, Dicky laughed so hard, Suzanne told him he'd be sick if he didn't stop.

“You're weird, Jack. I like you.”

Jack smiled. “I like you, too.” He thanked Suzanne and Richard, said he needed to get back. 

“Can you come play with me tomorrow?”

“I'm sorry. We’re swi...uh, leaving for Île-du-Prince-Édouard tomorrow. We're meeting some more family.”

Dicky’s eyes filled with tears.

He patted Dicky on the shoulder and quietly said, “You don't maybe remember but I do, when you were little. It's not often I've pulled someone from the ocean and then see them again, so who knows? Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Nodding sadly, Dicky watched him walk away. 

When he went to bed, Suzanne tucked him in and said, “there’ll be other children to play with and just think. You'll be able to tell your friends back home you got to play with Bad Bob Zimmermann’s son.”

Clutching a handful of shells, including one perfect sand dollar, Dicky fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "C'est mieux qu'on n'en parle pas"-It's better not to talk about it.
> 
> "Vous parlez tellement, vous autres"-All of you talk so much.
> 
> "Est-ce que c'est vrai?"-Is this true?
> 
> "Jack, tu sais..."-Jack, you know...
> 
> "Je sais, Je suis désolé. Ca ne se passera plus." -I know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.
> 
> "J'espère"-It had better not.


	3. Chapter 3

Hubbards Beach Campground, South Shore, Nova Scotia

July 19, 2008

Eric Bittle, age 13

 

 

The sun was settling into the woods behind him and the noises in the woods nearby, insect hum, wind rustle, were shifting from day to night, lower, deeper. Even the waves seemed contemplative somehow.

 

Eric wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie as he stared mournfully out at the water, watching the subtle play of colour shift between green and navy and purple in the sky. On the sea the water turned gray-green and melted into darker colours, hinting at depths unexplored.

 

The cast on his wrist itched, and he was thirsty, but he didn't want to go back to the campground just yet. His breathing finally quieted, and he hiccupped occasionally. His head still pounded more from dehydration than from the crying he didn’t want his parents to see.

 

The water calmed him as he listened to the shush of the waves and he breathed deeply, in and out in rhythm.

 

He was just thinking of standing and going back when a soft splash sounded off to his left.

 

In the water, Hard to make out because of the disappearing light, shadowed dark blue and hazy, he could just see someone swimming, long strokes, arm over arm. It was mesmerizing, and he felt quieter watching. The swimmer turned in the water and drew nearer and then stopped, head above the waves. Eric couldn't see well, but it appeared that the swimmer looked at him and then their head disappeared.

 

Eric watched for a minute, a vague memory of someone he once knew who could hold their breath for a long time as he waited anxiously for the head to pop up again. When it didn't, he stood and waded ankle deep, searching.

 

He was under strict orders not to get his cast wet, but if someone were in trouble, he’d go in any way. Before his wrist had been broken, he’d been a good swimmer with plans to perhaps get his lifeguard certification some day. His mother would not be happy to have to take him to the nearest hospital to get his cast looked at but better that than letting someone drown. Just as he was about to go further in, the swimmer popped back up again, nearer.

 

“Are you okay?” Eric called out.

 

“Yes, I’m fine.”

 

“You had me worried. I thought I’d have to come in after you.”

 

The swimmer, male, laughed, humourlessly. “No need for that.” He came in closer to shore and stood, waist deep in the water, wiping his hands back through his shaggy hair.

 

“You shouldn’t swim alone,” Eric couldn't help but say.

 

“I’m not exactly alone, and I’m an excellent swimmer.” Eric had the distinct feeling he wasn’t happy with being nagged.

 

“Okay then. Well. I guess I’ll head back. Night.” Eric turned to leave, feeling a bit grateful to the out of sorts swimmer because at least it had given him something else to think about and time to pull himself together before facing his parents.

 

He’d reached the edge of the sand where the grass started when the swimmer called out. “Wait. Come back.”

 

Eric looked at him and could see he was up on the beach. Even with the light disappearing, Eric could see he was a young man, not much more than a boy, taller than he was and skinny but well muscled, with the look of someone who might have been sick for a while and was just now getting back into shape. His swimsuit hung low on his hips and looked like it was meant to fit a bigger person.

 

“I, um, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be abrupt with you.” His voice had a slight cadence to it, suggesting English was not his first language.

 

Eric huffed. “That’s all right. I was just worried, you see. Thought you might have gone under. Didn’t mean to nag you.”

 

The young man hung his head, shook it and then sat on the beach, back to Eric. His arms were on his knees, crossed and he put his forehead down, hunched in on himself. Eric bit his lip and then walked back and sat beside him.

 

The young man didn't look at him, so Eric sat staring out at the ocean. In the fading light, he could just make out seals heads popping up and down far out from shore. Normally this would have interested him, but he felt too much concern for the boy beside him.

 

It was all he could do not to say anything, but he felt if he spoke it would send him out to the water again.

 

Finally lifting his head up from his arms, he spoke to Eric, not quite looking at him.

 

“Do you ever feel that you’ve missed your path or an opportunity and that if you’d just hold your breath a certain way or picked up a rock or stone at the right time your life would be different somehow?” It wasn’t a question.

 

“No, but I think I know what you mean. You wish your life were different?”

 

They sat for several minutes not speaking, no sound except for the night noises and the waves mumurring to themselves.

 

“Not different exactly. Just…I wish I’d made better choices.”

 

Eric nodded. They sat together, companionably, even though Eric did not know this young man and although he seemed distant, he felt comforted by his presence.

 

“What happened to your wrist?”

 

Frowning, Eric glared at the offending limb. “Oh,” he said. And again stillness for a long time. He took a deep breath several times, but nothing seemed to come out. The young man waited patiently. In a rush, he said, “I fell down some stairs.”

 

“You fell?” Eric could hear the disbelief.

 

“I fell down some stairs because I was shoved.” An intake of breath beside him and a sound not unlike a growl. “Then the assholes who did it thought it would be funny locking me in a storage closet. Wasn’t found until morning.” He could sense the tears building up behind his eyes. Tired of crying he cleared his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can't swim, can't skate, can’t bake, can’t do anything, and they got a reprimand, that’s it. And we had to move.”

 

There was the shake of a head and Eric could see fists clench out of the corner of his eye.

 

“You skate?”

 

Eric didn't look over at him. “Yeah, figure skate. One of a long list of reasons why they thought I belonged at the foot of the stairs.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Not your fault.” He wiped his eyes.

 

“No, but…” The noise of a throat clearing beside him. “I know the type. I am sorry you can’t do the things you want. And I am very sorry you got hurt. It shouldn't have happened.” A string of curses was hurled into the night, curses Eric didn't understand but sounded impressive. “I understand. I can’t do what I want, be what I want for different reasons and through my own stupidity.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No, but not for the reasons you think.”

 

For the first time all vacation, Eric laughed, a real laugh. “And what are those reasons?”

 

“You think I won't tell you because I don't trust you or because I don’t know you, neither of which are true, Dicky. I don't want to say because I don't want you to think less of me.”

 

“But…”

 

“I have to go. I’m being called.” There were no other voices and nothing around them but the sound of insects and the occasional seal popping out of the ocean to stare at them.

 

“Wait!” But the young man had already made his way into the water and arms outstretched he dove in. With relief and sadness, Eric saw his arms moving as he turned and swam parallel to the shore. The seals disappeared when he’d gone in, no doubt scared by the movement and splashing water.

 

Standing on the shore, he turned over the odd encounter, thinking about what had been said and what hadn't, there long enough his mother came to get him and bring him back, her arms over his shoulders, hugging him. He drank a huge glass of water, got into his jammies and lay down on his sleeping bag. Lying on his back, one arm behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling of the camper, wonder and puzzlement filling every crevice of his mind, driving out all thoughts of the group of bullies who haunted him most days and nights. His mind, usually so restless, calmed and he started to fall asleep.

 

Waking with a jerk, he sat up. His father’s snores told him it was later than he’d thought.

 

“He knew my name. I didn’t tell him,” he whispered. He wouldn't have said Dicky if he had.

 

It took a long time to fall back asleep. When he finally drifted off, he dreamt of water and seals and crashing waves, rocked in someone’s arms, not afraid for the first time since his father had pulled him out of the locker.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to redscudery for the translation:) hover text was being difficult so the translation is in the end notes. :P
> 
> Crescent beach is a beautiful beach in Nova Scotia and one of my favourites. It's usually very chilly there and rough but the sand is hard packed and great for walking on, People drive their cars on the beech.
> 
> Google the story of the sand dollar in Christian mythology. It's very interesting.

Crescent Beach, Lunenburg County, Nova Scotia

July 18, 2015

Eric Richard Bittle, Age 20

 

Bitty stood on the beach, something he did every summer since he could remember and a little bit before.

 

Stood on a beach and looked at the ocean.

 

His hand held a small collection of shells, a mix of smooth stones and dogwinkles, a mauve mouth drill or two and a sand dollar, round and perfect, usually kept separate, the soft edges protected from breaking against the others. He didn’t collect shells every time, preferring to leave them there, letting them grind down year after year to turn into more sand. After all, if everyone took shells and rocks and beach glass home, there wouldn't be any sand.

 

The beach, next to the ice and the rink, was pretty much his favourite place. Physical land, place to visit type place. Being in Jack’s arms was his absolute first favourite place. He smiled, a bit wistfully because Jack wasn’t here. Maybe someday he would be, but that couldn’t happen yet.

 

Placing the rest of the collection back in the pocket of his shorts, he closed his fist around the sand dollar.

 

And thought of Jack.

 

Beautiful, perfect, incredible Jack. Warm and kind where he’d been prickly and cold before, back before. A crease rose up between Bitty’s brown eyes as he thought about that first year, wondering if it had all been about the hockey or if Jack had been protecting himself from something more. Hiding something Bitty’d been questioning for a while.

 

Although his face turned toward the ocean and the waves, he didn't see the birds running up and down the beach or the storm clouds moving in sending the dog walkers and the few brave swimmers home. He turned inward, watching memories, tracking a few things about Jack that had always made him curious, more curious than any hockey royalty scandal ever had.

 

Thinking back on Jack’s anger with him when they had first met some of it had been frustrated with Bitty’s fainting, and some of it had been jealousy over his goal Family Weekend. But now and then he’d catch Jack watching him, an expectant look on his face, combination of worry and puzzlement as if he might be waiting for Bitty to say…something.

 

Freshman year, they’d sat around a bonfire in the backyard of the Haus, shooting the shit. Somehow ending up talking about famous people they’d met. Shitty started it, mentioning his mom running into Katherine Hepburn the year before she’d died. Jack hadn’t been there at the beginning of the conversation; he’d shown up after Wicks had membered meeting Chris Evans.

 

Sitting down beside Shitty, shaking his head at the offered can of beer, Jack had listened without commenting, everyone knowing his mother and his father he’d met more than his fair share of celebrities. Bitty, perhaps one too many cans of Natty Light in his system, blurted out that when he was little, he’d met Jack, but had forgotten about it until after Family Weekend when his Mama had brought it up.

 

Jack had turned pale, scowled, muttered something in French and had stalked off.

 

Bitty had thought at the time he’d been mad.

 

Now he wasn’t so sure.

 

There had been the time this past year when coming up the stairs he’d heard Jack and Shitty talking, making plans.

 

“Look Shitty, you know I can't go. Please stop asking.”

 

“I know. But Brah, it will just be you and me, and the beach is empty in the winter.”

 

A chair scrapped, and a soft ‘oof’ indicated that one of them had stood and then hugged the other. “I’m sorry, Shits. It’s bad enough you know. If Papa finds out I’ve gone to the beach with you; he’ll…”

 

“Choke on a fish?”

 

“Ha ha. Yes. He’ll choke on a fish.” A heavy sigh. “The least he might do is prevent me, like before….”

 

“Ah, gotcha. The worst?”

 

The silence dragged. Bitty knew he shouldn't be out here listening in. His Mama would kill him for being so impolite, but where Jack was concerned he couldn't ever let it go.

 

“He’d stop me from coming back.”

 

Bitty’s heart clenched. He must have made a noise because someone said, “Shh.”

 

Turning around quietly, he stomped on the stairs, made it sound like he was just now coming up them and called out “Jack? You home?”

 

“In here, Bittle.”

 

Bitty had come into the room and talked about going for the ingredients they’d need for their pie and asked if Jack wanted to come.

 

That had bothered him for a long time, holding back and not asking for forgiveness for listening in.

 

Once Jack had been sick with a cold, refused to take anything for it, finally exasperated with Bitty’s mother-henning had said, “Yes to the chicken soup. No to the cold medicine.”

 

“But Jack…”

 

“Look Bittle. I just don't do drugs, not even cold remedies, not without checking with my family doctor. My metabolism is fucked up.”

 

He’d stopped abruptly, his mouth fishing open and closed a few times and looked panicky. “I mean, I just don't, okay?”

 

“I’m sorry, Jack. I didn't think.”

 

He’d sighed and said, “It’s okay. I don't want to talk about.”

 

At the end of last year, when Jack had come to say he was sorry about Bitty’s concussion, he’d finished with,

 

“Are you off to the Maritimes again this year?”

 

Bitty had never talked about his family’s annual trips to Canada. Even after finding out Jack was Canadian, it had never come up.

 

And the last one, the oddest one.

 

Jack standing in Bitty’s room in Madison, looking at a glass jar on his desk, filled with shells, and other flotsam from the sea, alone sand dollar resting on the lid. A soft smile had played on his lips as he’d asked, “You collect shells?”

 

“Sometimes. Those are sort of special.”

 

“Oh?’

 

Bitty had frowned. “Yeah, I was given them at different times. Funny, I haven't really thought about it much.”

 

“Different people?” Jack’s eyes had twinkled at him.

 

“Yes, different beaches. Different boys. It was so long ago. I can't really remember the details. I was kind of little.”

 

Very quietly, turning the jar in his hands, Jack seemed to be thinking, a frown making his face droop more than usual. “Bittle?”

 

“Yes, sweetheart?’

 

“Are you going to the ocean again this summer?”

 

“Yes, we go every year. We’re going to a place called Crescent Beach. Mama wants to rent a cottage this time instead of taking the trailer. She says she tired of being cooped up and she wants to sleep in a proper bed.”

 

“When you go to the beach, can you do me a favour?”

 

“Of course. Anything for you.” He’d wrapped his arms around Jack, squeezed him tight, burying his nose into his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

 

“If you want, if you need to, can you throw the sand dollar back into the ocean.”

 

He’d leaned back and looked up at him a laugh. “Why on earth?”

 

“Just do it. For me. If you do, you’ll know.”

 

“My, my. You are so mysterious all of a sudden.”

 

After there’d been kissing and more hugging and the request had been driven from his mind until the night before they’d left for Nova Scotia, Bitty remembered as he rummaged through his desk for his extra charger. He scooped it up thinking about how important it had been to Jack and poured the shells from the jar into his hand. He’d wrapped them up in some tissue and stored them carefully in his bag.

 

None of it alone meant much of anything.

 

Some of it together didn't mean very much more. But…

 

Bitty opened his eyes; his heart beat a little bit faster.

 

The sand dollar bit into his hand.

 

Walking closer to the waves, he looked out to the rough sea. The wind wiped through his hair, and something inside him seemed to soar, something seemed to say, ‘Now.' Pulling back his arm, he threw the sand dollar as far as he could. Tracking it with his eyes until it plunked into the water, any sound it made swallowed up by the waves, the wind, and the birds.

 

He waited a long time. His heart sank, and he laughed a bit bitterly. How foolish to think…well, whatever he’d been thinking.

 

Turning to go, one last glance at the water, resolving to tell Jack about his foolishness the next time they spoke, he saw it. Out a little ways. Black and sleek. Bobbing up and down on the water.

 

Heart flipping, he ran into the water, up to his waist, the cold a shock but nothing would make him head back out, not now.

 

It came closer. Bitty held out his hand. The seal swam up, large eyes, not Jack’s colour, but dark and fathomless blinked at him. He slowly rolled over and back to face him; his head bobbed up and down.

 

“Hello, Jack,” he said, tears welling up.

 

There was a shift, the world titled sideways for an instant, and there was a sound without sound. Jack stood there, where the seal had been, grinning.

 

Bitty raised his hands to his mouth as tears ran freely, his face covered with them and the ocean.

 

Wet and cold, but warm too, Jack wrapped his arms around him, pulled him in tight. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”

 

“Oh my sweet lord, yes. He kissed Jack, salt mixing in. Pulling back, he said, “I never realized. I never thought.”

 

“I couldn't say anything. Not until now, not until Papa knew I was serious, we are serious.”

 

“Your father, your family?”

 

“Ouais,” Jack’s accent a little thicker like when he came back from Montreal. “My father and his family. But not Maman. She is human, like you.” Jack smiled, his eyes soft, back to their familiar blue. He ran his hand through Bitty’s hair, cupped his face and said,” your lips are blue. Let’s get you back to the beach. Our cottage isn’t far.”

 

“Not that I’m complaining, but you’re all kinds of naked and I’m not sure what the laws are in Nova Scotia, but I’m pretty sure they’re not that liberal.”

 

Jack laughed. “You waited until the beach was clear, which is good. But if you look, Maman is coming with her car.”

 

Bitty, shivering uncontrollably, could make out a vehicle pulling up on the hard packed sand.

 

Jack scooped him up and trudged through the water. In spite of his being wet, his body radiated heat and helped prevent Bitty from dropping into complete hypothermia.

 

By the time they were back on the beach, Jack’s mother stepped out of the car holding a couple of towels in her hand.

 

Jack set him down, wrapped the towel around him and kissed his mother on her cheek. He took a second towel from her and placed it around his waist. She held out her arms to Bitty and hugged him.

 

“Get in the car,” she said. “There’s a lot to talk about.”

 

They climbed in back. The car was warm, a blanket lay on the seat and another to throw around him. Jack didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold.

 

Off the beach and back down the road, they came to a cottage not far from where the Bittles were staying. Bitty shook his head, wondering at the planning that had gone into this. “Do my parents know?”

 

“About me? No. Maman has been exchanging recipes with your mother for a few months now, and she mentioned they were coming here this summer. Maman gave her the address of the rental cottages. She neglected to tell her we were going to be here, too.”

 

“Aren't you afraid Mama and Coach will find out?”

 

“No. Papa isn’t on land much in the summer, and Maman's been staying in while your folks are around. We are cautious.” He smiled. “Usually.”

 

“Usually?”

 

“Come inside. There are dry clothes and chowder, and we’ll explain.”

 

In they went. Jack gave Bitty a change of clothes, track pants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie, obviously Jack’s and showed him to one of the bedrooms. Pulling the t-shirt over his head, he could smell Jack, familiar and safe.

 

Dressed, he found the small kitchen. Alicia smiled and set a bowl of chowder on the table. “Come and eat. Jack will be out in a minute, and Bob is coming. You must be overwhelmed.”

 

Bitty nodded, not quite trusting his voice just yet. Jack joined them, pecked him on the cheek. A few minutes later Bob came in, thankfully for Bitty sake, he was dressed. He greeted Bitty, kissed his wife and said to Jack, "Es-tu prêt à lui dire tout?"

 

“Ouais Papa.”

 

“Good.”

 

That night Bitty heard about Bob Zimmermann’s family, descended on his father’s side from a long line of selkies. Every summer they would gather off the coast of the Maritimes and spend most of the summer in the water.

 

Alicia explained how she’d met Bob at the beach, when she’d been filming a movie. “I knew Bob from hockey, but had no idea for about a year who he really is.”

 

Jack talked about when he was eighteen and Bitty thirteen, at Hubbard’s beach. “That was right after my overdose. I wasn’t allowed to shift until I’d got all of the drugs out of my system.”

 

“How in the world does a selkie get anxiety?” Bitty blurted out not thinking.

 

Jack smiled gently. “We have fears too, some human, some seal. Anxiety is part of me. It doesn’t help that my metabolism is a little skewed and my temperature runs hot. I can’t go to regular human doctors. It’s trial and error with medication, and I took too much, worried about the draft, disappointed when Kent went first, not thinking. I had to spend the summer finding myself again.”

 

Tears in his eyes, Bitty climbed onto Jack’s lap and hugged him, laying his head on Jack’s shoulder. Bob and Alicia smiled.

 

“Eric,” Bob said after a few minutes, “You can't tell anyone. Only you know and Shitty.” His gaze darkened a little. Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Bob put up a hand. “I know you trust him, but you crossed a line there, Jack. Now is not the time.” He turned back to Bitty. “Do we have your word?”

 

“Yes, of course,” said Bitty.

 

Alicia held out her hand to him, “I want you to know, it won't be easy. You can't go where they go. And on top of hockey too, it means Jack will be away during the summer. There’s a lot of being alone and being lonely. It will be hard not being ready to come out yet and your parents not knowing about this and that you are together with my son.”

 

Bitty looked at Jack who leaned back to smile at him. So many unspoken words of love in his eyes, in their eyes. So many things to say and feel and to talk about.

 

He turned to Bob and Alicia. “I know it won't be easy. I know we have to hide our relationship from the press and people, not understanding or forgiving two men falling in love, let alone not having them find out about the whole seal thing.” Jack chuckled, the rumble of it bouncing Bitty on his lap. “He is worth it. This is worth it. I love your son so much. I guess I always have. I just didn’t know it.”

 

“Okay then,” said Bob, nodding at Bitty’s sincerity. “Jack?”

 

Jack laid the sand dollar on the table. Somehow he’d found it and brought it back out of the ocean or at least it looked like the same one. Shifting Bitty on his lap, he took it and snapped it in half.

 

“There’s a story about sand dollars, humans tell. You should look it up. It’s interesting. But the selkies have their own story.” He took half and handed it to Bitty. “This is my pledge to you. I will love you as deep as the sea. I will love you fiercer than the storms at sea and harder than the waves on the shore. If you need me in the summer months, throw your half in the water, and I will come to you.”

 

Bitty took his half, turning it around in his hand. He cleared his throat and said, “I will love you as deep as the sea and fiercer than the storms. I will love you harder than the waves on the shore. Bring me your half, and I will always come to your side.”

 

They kissed, the cabin and the walls around them seeming to dissolve the feeling of wind and water surging around, between and through them.

 

Breaking the kiss, Alicia and Bob laughed. Bob said, “In the eyes of the family, you’re married now. Might want to wait a bit to make it official with the humans.”

 

With permission, Bitty phoned his parents, told them he’d run into Jack’s family on the beach and he was invited to stay the night. Mama said they were to all come for supper tomorrow. Bob and Alicia said yes.

 

After Bitty disconnected with his mother, Bob said to him, grinning, “You won't be able to see Jack much around your parents. They will probably figure it out quickly the way you two light up around each other.” He kissed Alicia. “I have to head out. I’ll be back tomorrow. And Jack?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“After supper tomorrow, you’ll have to say goodbye for the summer.”

 

“I know,” he said solemnly.

 

Alicia said, with a wink, “I have earplugs.” She went to her room and closed her door.

 

Bitty blushed, turned his face into Jack’s shoulder. “I cannot believe she as good as gave us permission. I don't think I can do anything with your mother here, earplugs or not.”

 

“We don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure my mother would understand all of this,” Bitty said, his tone saucy. Jack kissed him, hard, passion burning brightly between them.

 

“I have known for years it was you. I was afraid you would be scared, or you would figure it out before I was ready to tell you.”

 

“I am scared, but not the way you think. I am scared with how much I love you. I know this isn’t a cakewalk, sweetpea, but I mean it when I tell you I am in this for the long haul.”

 

Scooping him up again, Jack carried him to the room he’d changed in. He placed Bitty on the bed and climbed beside him. He kissed his mouth, his eyes, the tip of his nose, he kissed his neck, Bitty titling to give him better access. Their hands roamed over and under their clothes.

 

“Can I take off your shirt?” Jack asked.

 

“Oh Lord, I thought you’d never ask.” He sat up and lifted his arms. Jack pulled Bitty’s shirt off and then ran his hands through his hair, laying it flat. He kissed him again.

 

They tangled together, loved and made love, deeply, ardently. Morning came too soon.

 

After a quiet breakfast, Jack drove Bitty back to his parents’ cottage. “I will see you tonight, but then I won't be back until middle of August. I hope you’re coming up to see me in Providence.”

 

Bitty kissed him. “I will see you as often as I can. You’ll probably get tired of me. We’ll work it out.”

 

He climbed out of the car and waved as Jack drove off. He pulled the broken half of the sand dollar out of his pocket and held it to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Es-tu prêt à lui dire tout?" - Are you ready to tell him the whole story?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have left comments and kudos.  
> Thanks to mattsloved1 and redscudery.

Private Island off the coast of Nova Scotia

August 3, 2029.

Eric Bittle, Age 34

 

 

Two children splashed up and down in the waves, trying to jump over each roller as they came in, occasionally one catching them by surprise and crashing over them. They shrieked with laughter throughout all the coughing and spluttering.

 

The girls were twins, for the most part. They had the same birthday and the same mother but other than some similarities in manner, they looked nothing alike and Bitty despaired at having to keep explaining to people. At least at school, they seemed to understand. Finally.

 

Bitty kept an eye on them as held his book in his hand, reminiscent of his father on a similar day twenty-seven years ago. He wouldn't start reading until Alicia joined him. He smiled, watching them, one towhead, one dark, both wearing life vests because.

 

Because there’s never a guarantee.

 

Because they both could be or only one or neither.

 

They might find out soon or maybe not for another year or so.

 

Although Bitty suspected, Jack preferred certainty.

 

In his heart of hearts, he hoped both because that would save a lot of jealousy and hurt feelings. They were both his daughters, and they were both Jack’s, and no one could say different, but that didn't stop biology. Alyssandra most certainly would be, having two parents who were selkie, but Simone, well; they’d just have to wait.

 

“I’ve brought lunch,” Alicia sat in the chair beside him, picnic hamper deposited by their feet. “I know there’s no way in hell you’ll get those two out of the water. Not without a fight. Jack was the same.”

 

Bitty smiled at her. “Mama would tell you me too. Run down to the beach the moment we’d get to the ocean, and they’d have to drag me out to leave for home. Now,” he shuddered a bit, “now I find it awfully cold.”

 

“Yes, I know what you mean. Of course being right off the Northern Atlantic here it does feel icy. My knees turn blue as soon as I put a toe in.” She handed Bitty a bottle of water and half a chicken salad sandwich.

 

“Mmmm, that's good, Alicia, thanks. Did you use the dressing I made in this? I should market that.” he said only half joking.

 

“Yes I did and yes you should.”

 

They munched away as they watched the girls continue to romp in the waves, expending so much energy they both felt tired just from watching.

 

“Do you think they’ll be back tonight?” he said trying to keep wistfulness and longing out of his voice and not succeeding. Alicia smiled at him full of understanding.

 

“I do.” She took another bite of her sandwich, chewed and swallowed before she spoke. “I remember how hard it was waiting for Bob to come home when Jack was little. Gone all year playing hockey, gone all summer being true to his nature.” She looked out to sea, smiling. “I know you’ve heard this before, and I know it makes no difference to how you feel, but it does get easier.”

 

He smiled. Out of all the people in his life, she knew better than anyone else how difficult it could be and did not resent her saying it. So many compromises in this odd little life of theirs.

 

But worth every stolen moment.

 

“We’ll be fine. I just wish, sometimes, we had more time together.”

 

“You will.”

 

Alyssandra and Simone must have noticed Alicia had joined Bitty, which meant lunch because they came charging out of the water soaked and shivering. The girls deposited collections of shells, rocks and sand dollars into Bitty’s hands to add to his jar on the mantle in the cottage, gifts from the sea.

 

After removing her life vest, Bitty wrapped Allie in a sun-soaked towel while Alicia did the same to Simone. He carefully wiped her face, tried to remove some of the sand and salt so it wouldn't get into her food. The two girls sat together on a third towel spread out in the sun to warm up while they ate sandwiches and carrot sticks and potato chips.

 

“Daddy? Can we get ketchup chips at home?”

 

“Bleck!” said Allie. “Those are yucky.”

 

Simone shrugged. “I like them.”

 

“No sweetpea, we can’t, and it’s just as well because if you eat any more of them, you’ll turn into one.”

 

She giggled. “Not if I turn into a seal first.”

 

“Sim, hush up! You’re not supposed to talk about it!” Allie looked disapprovingly at her sister.

 

Bitty sighed. They knew better, but sometimes it slipped out.

 

Instead of berating her, he merely said, “We can’t all like the same things, Simone. You like ketchup chips, and Allie likes dill pickle. I like neither. You take after Papa Bob. He likes them both, and he’s the one who gets them for you. Just be sure to save him a few.”

 

Alicia laughed as she handed Simone a cupcake, chocolate with blue frosting and one to Alyssandra, the same but with yellow, just the way they liked them.

 

After lunch, Alicia and Bitty wrestled them back into their life vests and reapplied sunscreen before the girls returned to the water.

 

Bitty did not begrudge them one extra second of time spent there, his little fish. How could they not be at home in the ocean? It was where they’d been born.

 

oOo

 

He kissed Alyssandra on the cheek, replaced her stuffed bear under her arm and pulled the covers up. The wind off blew cold tonight. Then he went to Simone’s bed and did the same. She turned over in her sleep and muttered, “I’m a good swimmer, too, Papa.”

 

Bitty chuckled. Simone shone so brightly, full of sunshine and joy. So much like him, but so much like Jack, too. His heart would break if she didn't get her wish. It would break for Alyssandra as well, his quiet, thoughtful child. So serious, so smart.

 

But he’d be there for them if either or both didn't get to be selkie, to dry their eyes, to look to a different, perhaps easier future.

 

And they would wait on the sand together every summer for Jack and Bob to come home.

 

He stood in the doorway for a few minutes. No one would know his eyes filled with tears, heart hurting, wishing to protect them from a harsh world. Closing the door, he made his way to the kitchen to tidy up. Alicia had already gone upstairs to bed.

 

The doors were checked, the back one left unlocked for wayward husbands, a load of constant laundry started, and then he went to their room. He took off his clothes, changed into an old Falconers’ tee of Jack’s, washed his face and brushed his teeth.

 

Yawning, he settled into bed. As he dozed off, he thought he heard the back door open and close, the sound of whispered conversation. He turned over, stretching his arm out to Jack’s side of the bed.

 

Moments later, Jack slipped in ocean cold under the covers, placing his feet on Bitty’s legs.

 

“Every time,” Bitty muttered. “That is just mean.”

 

Jack kissed his neck, searing and tender, bringing Bitty back from the edge of sleep.

 

“You bring new meaning to cold feet, Mr. Zimmermann.”

 

“You like it,” Jack said, each word punctuated with a kiss.

 

“Ha! You mean you do! You, sir, never apologize for that.”

 

Jack chuckled as he carefully positioned Bitty onto his back and lay across him, warming himself, lifting the t-shirt and peppering Bitty’s chest with more kisses.

 

Bitty ran his hand through Jack’s hair, still damp, gripped it tight and moaned a little as Jack swirled his tongue over his nipples.

 

“Kids asleep?” Jack stopped kissing for a minute, leaning on his elbows and looked at Bitty, the moon spending silver across their bed.

 

Bitty held out his hand and pulled Jack back up and kissed him hard, panting a little. “Yep, although not for want of trying to wait up for you. They’ll be happy to see you at breakfast.” He kissed him some more, kissed him, tasting salt and said, “I’d rather not talk about the kids right now, thank you very much. I’d rather kiss you some more. Mmmmm, you taste so good. I’ve missed you so much.” Tears close to the surface today, welled up.

 

  
“You do, too. I’m sorry,” Jack said, kissing each tear away. Bitty didn’t answer as Jack sat him up a bit and took the t-shirt off of him, throwing it to the floor. “I’ve missed you too, bud, so much.”

 

They stopped talking for a while, except for occasional murmurings or endearments. Jack kissed down Bitty’s chest, sucked on his hip and the inside of his thigh, made him squirm in a good way, licked him to the edge and swallowed him down. Bitty placed an arm across his mouth to stop from crying out and waking the girls or disturbing Alicia and Bob’s welcome home.

 

While Bitty came down, Jack ran his fingers across his skin, tried not to overstimulate him but not wanting to lose contact after so long apart. Fuzzily, Bitty grinned up at him, loving Jack more deeply and completely each and every day. He proceeded to return the favour, to show Jack he belonged to him, no matter how much the sea claimed him.

 

After, they cuddled together, whispered of things they had missed about each other until they fell asleep and dreamt of tomorrow.

 

In the morning after pancakes and bacon and hash browns, the whole family would spend another day at the beach, but together this time.

 

And later, sometime after lunch but before sunset, a miracle would happen not once, but twice.

 

Alicia would hug Bitty. He would stand beside her on the beach one hand to his mouth, the other on his heart, bittersweet tears tracking down his face.

 

Joy for his girls, sorrow for his solitude throughout the rest of his summers.

 

He'd wipe his eyes and lift his chin in determination. He loved his family fiercely. He knew they would come home to him.

 

And they were worth every stolen moment, like jewels from the sea.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're on a phone like me hover text doesn't work so here are the translations:
> 
> "Tu ne devrais pas être si proche de l'eau-c'est dangereux. Et t'as failli m'avoir avec les cailloux."-  
> "You should stand so close to the water. It isn't safe. And you almost hit me with those stones."
> 
> "Ça va, t'es correct"-"You're okay."
> 
> "Sais-tu ou sont tes parents?"-"Do you know where your parents are?"


End file.
